Darkness On The Edge Of Space
by V'Kotik
Summary: The sequel to my story "Words".
1. Maiden Voyage

1. Maiden Voyage

Just two days remained until _Buran_ would be back in subspace range and the daily video chat with Trip could recommence. Not only was recalling the day's events with Trip over a beer the next best thing to stand in for the badly missed evening dinners in the Tucker cabin. There was also the odd helpful hint that T'Pol chipped in with, which was very useful for a newly appointed captain, who found himself in charge of Starfleet's second most illustrious ship.

His life had always been that of a lone wolf. There never had been much feeling of family in his youth, mainly because his father radiated all the warmth of an alpine glacier. After the fallout over his refusal to join the Navy he couldn't get away from his father fast enough and ended up with Section 31, Harris's shady bunch, who were hunting for solitary souls like him, since the dubious life of a spy was lonesome by definition. Now, after experiencing something resembling a family with Hoshi and the Tuckers, he couldn't imagine ever to return to that business. Sure, the skills and instincts he had acquired would come in handy now that war loomed, but becoming a spy again, with the odd assassination here or there, was completely out of the question. He would never give up the life with Hoshi he had now.

The subject of his thoughts was sitting at the communications console treating him to a beautiful smile. Somehow she always knew when he was thinking about her. Normally she would be supposed to sit right next to him in the second center chair - a feature that all newly built NX's shared, but once in a while she liked to do her old job. Regulations be damned Malcolm thought, let her do it. Hoshi enjoyed running the comms and war was on the horizon, best to let her enjoy herself. He grinned inwardly, besides it put Hoshi in a good mood, which made their off shift time much more fun.

His mind wandered back to their honeymoon and Malcolm suppressed a laugh. There was a certain irony to having one's honeymoon organized by a Vulcan. Unfamiliar with human customs, T'Len, the newly minted Chief Engineer of _Buran_ had asked Lorian for help and he obviously had recalled his parents' wedding. One day after leaving _Salem One_ to deliver Admiral Gardner back to Earth, he and Hoshi found themselves in a Cargo Bay which had been transformed into a beach, a duplicate of Lorian's parents' own honeymoon in the Expanse. While he wasn't a big fan of beaches - after all they suggested water nearby - Hoshi had thoroughly enjoyed the idea and since this artificial beach came without the water, he enjoyed it as well. Hoshi, having discovered the joys of not wearing a uniform or any other clothing while on Vulcan, had merely adorned herself with a beautiful smile. That of course had kept his hormones beyond control and they had made glorious love for most of the three days.

His glance fell on the person, who had come up with the beachified cargo bay. When it came to being an atypical Vulcan, T'Len could easily give T'Pol a run for the money. As captain he had of course seen her service record and knew that at age fourty-nine, she was a good deal younger than T'Pol. Not that it made much of a difference; aging did not seem to affect female Vulcans. Even though pushing seventy T'Pol looked better than most human females in their twenties and the same was true for T'Len. The unusual thing about T'Len was that she was fully bonded with her mate Sonos, who was Hoshi's second in command of the communications department; Malcolm had learned from T'Pol that most Vulcans got married in their sixties.

T'Len and Sonos had quickly established a rapport with the crew. When Hoshi had started to assemble an all-female basketball team, T'Len had joined it as if it was the most Vulcan thing in the universe. If Hoshi was looking fantastic in the skin-tight two piece uniform, T'Len was best described as spectacular. The weekly basketball tournament had been a huge success since day one with mainly male crew filling the make-shift bleachers. If she hadn't been married already, T'Len would have to fend the guys off with a stick. No moves on her were made, however. The cultural briefing that Hoshi had forwarded to all non-Vulcan crew members had apparently been well comprehended.

When her beauty wasn't driving the male human contingent crazy, T'Len studied the assembled engineering reports she had gotten from Trip as a going-away gift. While she was quite the brilliant Engineer herself, she didn't grow up with Trip's genius for improvisation. Thankfully _Buran_ still had the new car feel to it, so she wasn't in need of improvised repairs yet, giving T'Len the time to get a feel for her.

Sonos, her mate occupied the communications console, Hoshi's intrusions not withstanding. Unlike T'Len, he was a Vulcan of a more traditional variety, but he seemed to have no problems with T'Len's occasional departure from Vulcan customs.

Looking to the right Malcolm could see his replacement at the tactical console. During the first days of their journey and much to the amusement of the bridge crew he had automatically gone from the turbo lift straight to tactical instead of the big chair, even though it was hard to miss that the station had a new occupant, because his successor was bright blue.

Tholos, once a member of Shrans raiding party at P'Jem and one of the _Kumari_ survivors who had followed Shran to Starfleet He had specifically asked for assignment to _Buran_. Not too many people had managed to outfox the experienced Andorian warrior, but Malcolm and his landing party at P'Jem had. Tholos had developed an honest respect for Malcolm as a result. Having that much experience behind the tactical console was even better for Malcolm's confidence, knowing he would have been tempted to second guess each decision of a less experienced officer which would have been disastrous in a battle situation.

Next on Malcolm's visual inspection was the portly figure at the helms console – the Tellarite Grev. Coming with a stellar recommendation and quite a few honorable insults, he was one of only two Tellarites to enter Starfleet service. Both Andorians and Vulcans now boasted double digit numbers of Starfleet officers. With only Grev on board justification for the construction of a mud bath had been difficult but since Tellarite mud seemed to have a positive effect on the skin of other races, it was added as cosmetic therapy for the many females on board at least that was what the requisition Malcolm had signed indicated. Surprisingly even some of the Vulcan females made use of the facility.

=/\=

Somewhat impatiently Trip waited for the connection grinning when the screen finally lit up. Centered on the vid-screen was a rather sweaty Malcolm and Hoshi sitting side by side – he still in uniform, while Hoshi wore a silk robe, which looked exactly like the one T'Pol had.

"Do you actually wear clothes in your cabin once in a while, Hoshi?" Trip asked with a chuckle.

"I do, but we're still having some teething problems. Today the temperature controls for most of C deck packed in - again. It was the easiest solution to just shed excess clothing. Of course he's too much Captain to follow my example," she said with a teasing look at Malcolm,

Trip laughed.

"Actually, I'll leave you boys to your beer," she said, tossing the robe over a chair, walking away in skimpy panties.

"Looks like you've got no problems in the entertainment department, Mal," Trip said shaking his head with a smile.

"Certainly not," the Brit answered and raised his mug. "Cheers."

"So, how's your little melting pot coming along?" Trip asked.

"Bit tricky," Malcolm explained. "No problems between the species, but adapting to them is a technical nightmare. The Vulcans are freezing and the Andorians are complaining of being boiled alive. Between cooling down the cabins of the Andorians and heating up the cabins of the Vulcans the life-support system is badly strained. It's the third time this week that the temperature controls went haywire. Mind you, it treats me to the most beautiful picture in the world," he said with an admiring look at a topless Hoshi, who was somewhere out of viewer range. "But that is little consolation for my crew."

"I might have something to help you," Trip offered. "I hooked the life-support in our cabin to the bio-sensors. That creates a sort of temperature bubble around T'Pol. She had been introducing me to some advanced neuropressure techniques. Some of them take an hour or more, so she usually gets a bit cold towards the end, but if we crank the temperature up to her comfort level, I'll sweat like a pig and smell accordingly."

"I wonder, how you'd stay conscious at all," Malcolm snorted. "I once was in our meditation chamber and nearly passed out."

"Exactly; the modifications allow T'Pol to set the temperature to her liking and due to the hook up to the bio-sensors the bubble follows her around. That could work for the Andorians as well – at least in their quarters."

"And the energy requirements?" Malcolm asked doubtfully.

"About 30% increase over normal, but still massively less than cooling or heating the whole quarters."

"With only two Vulcans on your ship, I doubt that was a completely self-less decision," Malcolm said in a teasing tone.

"Busted!" Trip laughed again. "T'Pol dislikes the thermo-lining in her uniform with a passion, so I had to get her comfortable without sentencing myself to hours of sauna in my own cabin. That she's taken to occasional topless meditation since then is a positive side-effect. She says it's making it more relaxing for her, but I bet she does it just to get me going."

"Does she succeed?" Malcolm asked with a grin.

"Every single time," Trip said with a chuckle, before switching to shop talk. "Did you get your CMO by now?"

"Picked her up on Earth," Malcolm said. "You'll never guess who it is."

"Phlox's wife Feezal," Trip said casually between sips of beer.

"You knew?" Malcolm wondered.

"Forgotten who **our** CMO is?" Trip asked back. "He told me about it. He just didn't know when she would arrive. In fact, he said you should not wait long before having a serious talk with her. Denobulan marriages do not require sexual fidelity as I found out back at _Dekendri III_. Phlox has already told her that married and engaged men are off-limits, but she'll have no qualms bedding unattached guys unless you specifically order her not to."

Malcolm laughed. "We've already had that particular talk, Trip. Frankly I couldn't care less as long as the guys are willing and she makes it clear to them that it isn't more than a friendly roll in the hay. In fact, I've already noticed a significant improvement in crew morale. She uses the rumor mill to update her list of eligible candidates."

Both of them had to laugh about that.

"So except for a quarter master you have a full crew then?"

"In fact I have a quarter master - Krolek, a Xindi."

"We've got Xindi in Starfleet?" Trip asked in surprise.

"No, he's a civilian. Worked in Gralik's kemocite operation. Looks like most Xindi are on some sort of guilt trip over the attack on Earth and want to make amends."

"That's one diverse gang you have there," Trip noticed with a chuckle.

"Tell me about it. I've thought about renaming myself 'Captain Doolittle' and traveling the corridors on a pogo stick."

Both men laughed and raised their mugs in salute.

"It's a good crew though," Malcolm said as he put the mug back down. With all the Vulcans and Andorians on board, we have more deep space experience than you lot."

"True," Trip agreed with a suddenly grim face. "And you're going to need it – have you read the latest recon reports?"

"Yep, " Malcolm said, suddenly turning serious, too. "Together with what I wrangled out of Harris, I'd say we have two months maximum before things get serious. That's why we're going to test the vortex generator tomorrow."

"Vortex generator? As in Xindi vortex?"

"The very same," Malcolm acknowledged. "The Xindi had one vortex generator left from one of the salvaged Reptilian ships and when they heard that Hoshi and I would command this ship, they just installed it. Guess we've made a bit of a name for ourselves."

"I assumed this technology depended on the Sphere Builders' manipulations of space?" T'Pol joined in and took a seat next to Trip.

"Hi T'Pol," Malcolm greeted. "As we found out, all it takes is a vortex generator. Of course it wasn't meant to be invented for another 600 years and its energy requirements make frequent use prohibitive."

"This would contaminate the time line," T'Pol argued.

"Sure it will," Malcolm agreed. "But both Starfleet and the Xindi council have agreed not to study or replicate the device and it has an automatic destruction sequence should it be removed. Theory is that either the contamination of the timeline is minor enough not to alert Daniels or it was meant to happen in the first place. Frankly this temporal malarkey gives me a head ache."

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed.

Before they could continue, Trip and T'Pol witnessed a half naked Hoshi hopping through viewer range trying to don a uniform, while klaxons on both ships announced that they had gone to general quarters.

=/\=

"On screen!" Malcolm demanded as the alpha shift took their places on the battle bridge. Commodore Archer's grim face appeared on screen.

"The planet Betazed is under attack. They sent out a distress signal. Have you tested your vortex generator already?"

"No, we were planning...," Malcolm started, but was interrupted by Archer.

"Then you will do so now. Hold the fort. The Vulcans should be there within two hours, we need five. Until then, you're on your own."

"Aye, Sir," Malcolm replied grimly. "We'll keep them busy."

"See that you do," Archer replied. "Good luck."

"Shit just got serious," Tholos said, showing off his 'skills' in human slang.

"Reed to engineering" Malcolm barked, pressing a button on his Captain's chair.

"Engineering," came T'Len's calm reply.

"Make ready for the biggest energy drain in a while, we are going to test the vortex in combat conditions. We only have one attempt."

"Understood."

=/\=

This wasn't like anything he'd ever seen on an Andorian ship, Tholos realized. Only a short-lived species would be so reckless as to engage an untested device that could obliterate the ship any minute. The horrible whining noise the ship generated while travelling through the vortex was deafening. He had his hands full keeping up with plasma and energy flows as the massive energy drain repeatedly caused some of his weapons systems to go offline. The only reassuring thing was, that T'Len herself was operating the damn thing.

Just a year ago he probably would have shot at her ship and now he found himself relying heavily on the expertise of the Vulcan female. The tactical exercises they had conducted on the way to Earth had shown that he and the Vulcan worked excellently together. Now this cooperation was going to be tested for real. Once through the Vortex, they'd find themselves in the middle of a battle with only the torpedo launchers available.

The ship exited the vortex with a shudder and several consoles emitted sparks. Taking a short look at the tactical display, he saw four large vessels surrounded by dozens of little signatures, which looked like ice bores surrounding a _Thl'ank _carcass.

"Triple..." he heard the captain say, but the trigger had already been pulled.

True to expectation T'Len had kept the Torpedo launchers powered and Tholos fired as soon as a target presented itself.

"I see, we're on the same page, Tholos," he heard the Captain praise him, as the Romulan warbird, completely surprised by their sudden appearance, exploded after a direct hit to their exposed cloaking device.

Unfortunately the three remaining enemy ships immediately zeroed in on _Buran_ carefully keeping their vulnerable hind-quarters out of the line of fire.

=/\=

Hoshi nodded at Sonos in quiet understanding and he took the hand of the petite human. Both closed their eyes, hoping that their combined telepathic abilities would suffice to get the message through to at least one of the dozens of Betazoid ships. Betazoids were supposed to be strong telepaths according to the Vulcan database and it was their best chance at the moment.

_Target the spikes in the warbird's stern_, they thought in unison, but that was the only chance they got as a direct hit to the shield generators caused the comms console to explode. Both Hoshi and Sonos were violently thrown back ending up bleeding and unconscious on the floor.

=/\=

Malcolm suppressed the urge to rush to his wife's side. Although she hadn't told him what the strange hand-holding with Sonos was meant to be, he had a good idea what they had tried to do and hoped it had been successful. He refocused his attention on the battle. Putting the _Buran _up against the three remaining Romulan warbirds was unrealistic and even if they could hold out the 90 minutes until the Vulcans arrived, their _D'Kyr_ class vessels simply didn't have the fire power for much more than hit-and-run attacks. Grimly Malcolm decided that to survive this he had to destroy them on his own.

The question about the success of Hoshi's attempt was answered in dramatic fashion, when one of the diminutive Betazoid ships rammed into the closest Romulan vessel hitting it squarely in the vulnerable section, causing the warbird to explode in a massive fireball, unfortunately incapacitating five nearby Betazoid ships.

"Damn these guys are brave," Malcolm muttered.

"Grev, I need a bit of magic," Malcolm demanded. "Flip us upside down, and bring us under the warbird – Tholos, you have exactly one shot!"

"All I need," the Andorian replied calmly and Malcolm noticed that his antennae were aggressively pointing forward.

Without saying a word, the Tellarite simply delivered what was asked of him. In a risky maneuver, he slipped in between two Betazoid ships on a collision course, forcing the ship into a steep dive while flipping it upside down.

After Grev had brought the _Buran _into the ordered firing position,Tholos quickly emptied the three lower torpedo launchers. The nine mark three projectiles headed for the most vulnerable part of the warbird disintegrating it on impact.

"I cannot retain power for much longer, Captain," came T'Len's report from engineering and the very un-Vulcan pitch in her voice told Malcolm that she was aware of her mate's injury.

"Reduce life-support to minimum," Malcolm ordered. "Do what you can."

"Acknowledged."

=/\=

Captain L'uana was torn. The arrival of the human ship had probably saved her planet from complete annihilation, but the attack by these unknown aggressors had cost too many lives. She was uncertain why her beloved to had rammed the enemy ship, but his death had not been in vain. As many other ships did, she pounded away at the last remaining attacker, but their weapons where just too weak to penetrate the shielding.

Just as she decided to honor her mate by sacrificing herself, a huge unknown, copper-colored ship dropped out of warp. It delivered a mortal blow to the remaining enemy vessel, crippling it. The human ship quickly destroyed it by firing a salvo of torpedoes at point blank range. The battle was over.

Hailing the unknown ship she was greeted by an elderly man.

"I am Ambassador Soval of Vulcan. May we be of assistance?"

=/\=

"God almighty," Trip exclaimed hustling off the turbo-lift and onto the bridge just as they reached the scene of the battle. _Buran _hung in space with considerable list , docked to a_ D'Kyr_ cruiser – the _Gol_. At least ten or more small ships of unknown, probably Betazoid origin floated nearby in space in varying degrees of devastation. It was a shocking sight.

"Are they ok?" he asked hoping that T'Pol would know anything about Malcolm or Hoshi, but uncharacteristically, T'Pol just shrugged. She was too unsettled herself to even notice her use of the human gesture.

"I'm going over," he said and headed towards the turbo-lift.

"Commander, my ready room," T'Pol ordered sternly. Trip followed her with a confused look on his face.

=/\=

"I am as concerned about _Buran_ as you are," T'Pol started without preamble, as soon as the door had closed. "But we are in a hostile situation and I must be able to rely on my officers doing their jobs here as opposed to running off on their own volition."

Trip stared at her.

"You undermined my authority," continuing her lecture. "You should have asked my permission. You know quite well that Starfleet's acceptance of our marriage is dependent on our ability to perform our duties without letting personal relationships interfere.

"Sorry," Trip muttered.

"I understand your anxiety and if I could I would go over myself, but we must remain on _Enterprise_, the _Gol_ is already docked. Our duty is to remain vigilant, there may be additional Romulan ships."

"Yes, Captain," he said and controlling his impulse to do an about-face and depart before being ordered.

"Dismissed," T'Pol said, raising an eyebrow when he had left.

=/\=

Soval sat in the conference room of the _T'Karath_, waiting for the Captains T'Pol and Reed to arrive. Previous mind melds with Charles and T'Pol had revealed their high regard for Malcolm Reed, but seeing the aftermath of a battle in which the human had taken on the four _Rihanssu_ ships made him realize how much he deserved their esteem. The sickbay of the _T'Karath_ had been overflowing with Human, Vulcan and Betazoid casualties, but now that the other NX-ships had arrived, a true triage process had seen the less severe cases transferred to the human vessels.

Even after 50 years on Earth and the relatively new but enlightening experience of having a human clansman, Soval still struggled to believe in the concept of luck. It was easily explained – a chain of statistically improbable events would occur in a statistically even more improbable sequence to produce a most fortuitous, statistically near impossible result. But for the first time in his life , he had to admit that 'luck' had intervened. Logic simply failed to explain the timing of the disparate events that had allowed his ship to arrive at the battle in what was realistically the last moment to save the human and Betazoid ships. He examined the unlikely sequence of events. The mediation talks between the Xindi races were completed at the precise moment the _T'Karath_ received orders to proceed to the newly reconstructed _Salem One_ station, where he was supposed to establish the infrastructure for a deep space embassy of Vulcan and fill in the post as interim ambassador until an appointed envoy would arrive. Nor was the fact foreseeable that a Xindi aquatic ship, the first scientific vessel the Xindi sent out after returning to peaceful coexistence, had offered to open a vortex for them, which was the sole reason for the _T'Karath_ arriving when she did. Had the Xindi ship not happened to be there, they would have been at least a week from _Salem One _and the _Buran_ would not have survived the maiden voyage under Captain Reed.

Yes, he admitted to himself, whatever he tried to explain these events, he would always arrive at an abstract human concept, be it fate, destiny or luck, so in pragmatic fashion, Soval decided to accept luck as the best explanation, since this concept was the least alien to him.

=/\=

It was not difficult for T'Pol to see just how worried Malcolm was. There was still no word about Hoshi and despite just having won an improbable battle, Malcolm was angry and worried.

"First things first, Ambassador," she heard Malcolm ask without preamble. "Is my wife on your ship?"

"She is, Captain Reed and to ease your concerns, her condition has improved; she is now in serious yet stable condition."

T'Pol heard a loud sigh escape Malcolm.

"You appear unsatisfied with our situation," T'Pol half stated, half asked.

"We won the battle, fine," Malcolm answered and his voice was thick with anger. "But the MACOs were a complete no-show."

"You are used to the experience of Sergeant Cole and her group, you cannot expect all MACOs to measure up to her standards without accumulating experience," she argued.

"All true," Malcolm agreed. "But I rely on them getting the basics right. They were too slow, didn't secure core areas of the ship and don't even get me started on their lack of discipline."

"Is the situation truly this bad?" T'Pol asked back, believing Malcolm's emotional recollection to be exaggerated.

"Remember the useless recon marines in _'Heartbreak Ridge'_?" Malcolm spat. "That's my MACO platoon in a nutshell."

"Perhaps they would profit from similar treatment then?"

T'Pol saw Malcolm's bewildered look. "Are you trying to tell me I should emulate a movie character to whip them in shape?"

"While much of the film was exaggerated for dramatic reasons, some of the psychological methods employed by Gunnery Sergeant Highway were sound. He was successful in creating an esprit de corps among the men."

"I can't believe you're suggesting something as crazy as this!" she heard him say in exasperation.

"While I am in no position to understand what T'Pol is referring to," Soval intervened. "I have found Captain T'Pol's advice to be valid in the past, even if it appeared most unusual at first. I suggest you entertain the idea of following it, Mr. Reed."

"To hell with it," Malcolm said with a lopsided grin. "It's worth a try."


	2. Repairs and Revelations

2. Repairs and Revelations

If it wasn't so sad, Malcolm would have laughed out loud. Not even a month had gone by since he had left _Salem One_ to take _Buran_ out on her maiden voyage and now he was back already with a ship that looked very second-hand. Granted, in between the two events he had killed about four hundred Romulans and saved about three times as many Betazoids, but no captain in the universe liked to see his ship in the state _Buran_ was in. Thankfully Starfleet had recalled _Enterprise_ to _Salem One_, too, so his ship would be repaired under the guidance of Charles Tucker III himself – one couldn't hope for more than that. He had no doubt in T'Len's expertise, but two brilliant minds on the job were better than one.

Following the battle around Betazed and due to latest reports from the _V'Shar_ and Section 31 Starfleet had decided to assemble the whole first offensive fleet around Salem One and space surely got crowded. Stabilized and powered by two _D'Kyr_ class vessels, each docked on either side of _Buran's_ battered saucer section, the wounded ship weaved through a venerable sea of nine fully armed NX class ships, about twenty Andorian _Kumari_ class cruisers, at least thirty _D'Kyr_ frigates and an eclectic mix of Baikal, Marconi and Olympus Mons class frigates. This was the biggest fleet the alpha quadrant had seen in a while.

"None of your ships?" Tholos asked in Grev's direction, but before the Tellarite could deliver a riposte, Malcolm butted in.

"The Tellarite fleet has taken on the task of planetary defense of all coalition planets," he explained with a look that would make sure Tholos didn't have any 'questions' afterward. "If you call home, you'll find that Andoria is orbited by more _Nork_ class cruisers than you would have been comfortable with a year ago."

"I apologize," Tholos said.

"No need to," Malcolm said with a smirk. "Grev fancies a good insult now and then. But you certainly need to update your tactical knowledge. I expect my tactical officer to know that Tellarite vessels are better used defensively than offensively. See that you get up-to-date. There'll be a quiz afterward."

Even a still bandaged Sonos, manning the communications console raised an amused eyebrow about Malcolm's ribbing of Tholos.

=/\=

As the big doors to the hospital wing of Salem One opened, the first Malcolm noticed was the eerie silence. Having spent five years in space now, he had come to associate sickbay with a cacophony of chirping, trilling and squeaking coming from a veritable zoo of alien animals. Both Phlox on _Enterprise_ and his wife Feezal on _Buran_ preferred natural therapies to chemical measures.

Unlike back home on _Buran_ he didn't walk into a single large chamber full of biobeds. This was a huge chamber, the walls of which were lined with dozens of currently not activated monitors, above them a lineup of at least a hundred folding gurneys in their wall mounts, which could quickly be unfolded and used to carry in the wounded. Unfolding the legs underneath them would transform them into makeshift biobeds. This particular addition was a result of their rescue mission on Corridan Prime, where Trip's engineering crew had made dozens of makeshift biobeds from gurneys.

Having been involved in the reconstruction planning after seizing the station from the Romulans he knew that this chamber would become the ER unit of the hospital. It would be here where the incoming wounded would be assessed and assigned for further treatment. He shuddered at the thought that this was a full blown hospital with 12 operating theaters, two independent intensive care units, three prosthetic workshops and biobeds for up to 750 patients. Three docked _Aesclepius _class hospital ships provided three additional operating theaters and further space for up to 210 patients.

Malcolm shuddered again. In a pinch this monstrous unit could house a thousand wounded and 15 surgeries could be performed simultaneously. What made him grim was, that from his time as a Section 31 operative, who had seen conflicts between races which Earth hadn't officially encountered yet, he knew that the day when this facility was forced to operate at over 100% capacity was already on the calendar.

This was what made those Romulans so menacing. Klingons, Cardassians, Gorn – he had seen a lot of warrior races that Earth officially didn't yet know about, but even the Section had not the faintest clue about what or who the Romulans were. He couldn't know that, of all people, his former Captain and now fleet commander had much more information about the Romulans than Harris's shady bunch.

"Dr. Lukas?" Malcolm called out in surprise as a stout man with a white lab coat walked into the chamber.

"Captain Reed," the doctor answered and walked towards him. "I've been waiting for you. If you would follow me?"

After a handshake Malcolm followed the Doctor along the long corridors until they arrived at one of the smaller examination rooms, where the Doctor called up two images on adjacent screens without much of a preamble. One of them was Hoshi's Starfleet record. When he saw that no date of death had been registered yet, Malcolm relaxed slightly.

"According to her record, your wife was born on July 9th in 2129. Is that correct?" Dr. Lucas asked.

"Of course, Doctor," Malcolm said in a puzzled tone. "We had to register our birth certificates for our wedding license not too long ago. I've seen hers. How is Hoshi?"

"She is fine, but still unconscious, we'll talk about that soon. Now, what you see here," the Doctor said and pointed to the slowly rotating helix on the second read-out. "Is a genetic profile of your wife, taken by the Vulcans before she was delivered here. As the medics on Soval's ship did not have access to her Starfleet medical record, they made a complete genetic scan. According to the cellular decay rate, your wife was born on March 30th or April 1st in 2130. Peculiar, isn't it?"

Malcolm stared at the display, unable to say anything, but his brooding was interrupted by the metallic computer voice of the PA system.

"Two incoming emergencies. Two incoming emergencies. Human One, Vulcan One. Severety Two."

Malcolm observed the Doctor as he calmly called up the duty roster and the screen showed a selection of human, Andorian and Vulcan medics.

"Dr. Turis, Dr. Tral, report to the ER unit," Dr. Lukas ordered after keying the door com unit to the PA system.

A short time later Malcolm heard the swish of an opening door nearby and an Andorian and a Vulcan, clad in white lab coats, jogged past their door down the corridor. Who would have thought a year ago that a Vulcan and an Andorian would work together in a hospital unit that was led by a human chief physician.

"Where were we?" the Dr. asked Malcolm.

"You were trying to tell me that Hoshi's been celebrating her birthday on the wrong day for over 20 years," Malcolm snorted.

"Ah, yes. Well Captain, can you remember any unusual medical episodes of your wife or exposure to alien influences? It would make it easier than to trawl the complete medical history."

"There are so many," Malcolm said. "The radiation on the Akaali planet, the transporter incident, the _L'oqueqe_ virus, abducted by the telepathic alien and the Xindi-Reptilians, her unexplained resurrection after her death..."

"Resurrection?" Lucas asked with an astonished look.

"About 14 months ago she and Commander Tucker were infected by an alien virus. Both died, but somehow came back from the dead. Phlox and Feezal have been trying to find out about what happened, but they are still clueless," Malcolm explained.

"Fourteen months," the Dr. muttered and Malcolm saw a myriad of numbers flash over the screen on the wall until a metallic voice announced "record found."

Malcolm observed how the Doctor rushed through several on-screen menus, before the computer voice announced "calculating."

"Now, we just need to wait a moment," the doctor said idly.

"Calculation finished. Species human, female, approximate date of birth: Year twenty one twenty nine, month six, week two," the computer voice droned monotonously.

"Well that sounds a bit closer to what we've believed so far," Malcolm stated the obvious. "So what does that mean? Obviously a birth can only happen once. Could it be some of this time line malarkey?"

"That is what we need to find out, Captain Reed. Didn't you say Commander Tucker was affected as well?"

"Yes."

"Excellent," the doctor said. "Since he's currently watching over your wife, we can take a scan of him immediately. But first you'll be scanned. Please remove your uniform and make yourself comfortable in the imaging chamber."

"You have a strange idea of 'comfortable', Doctor," Malcolm said and started removing his flight suit."

"Commander Tucker, please join us in room E-15," the doctor announced over the PA system.

"Hands at your side, Captain," Dr. Lucas instructed before he shoved the platform with Malcolm on it into the chamber's inner tube and closed it. Malcolm closed his eyes, while the monotonous hum of the scan made him feel the exhaustion of the last few days.

=/\=

Malcolm awoke and the first he saw was a white ceiling. He shook off the drowsiness and looked around. After a few moments he looked into the face of T'Pol, who was sitting next to his bio bed, with Hoshi positioned on the bed on her other side.

"Hey T'Pol," he muttered and swung his feet over the side of the bed. "What happened."

"You fell asleep in the chamber," she explained and pointed to the lower end of his bed, where a folded fresh uniform was.

After donning the fresh uniform – Trip or T'Pol must have brought it here – he went around the biobed, offering T'Pol a friendly handshake. To his utter surprise she gently drew him in and gave him a hug, which he returned somewhat stiffly.

"What was that all about?" he asked slowly gravitating toward Hoshi's bed.

"We were worried about the two of you," T'Pol admitted. "We all know how to read a tactical display. We were not convinced that we would arrive in time."

"Well thankfully Soval did," Malcolm said, sending her a small smile, while he took Hoshi's limp hand.

"Hoshi regained consciousness about three hours ago," T'Pol explained, coming up beside him and looked down at her sleeping friend. "Dr. Lucas administered a sedative to allow her to rest. The surgery and the artificial coma have cost her a great amount of energy."

"Could you talk to her?"

"Indirectly," T'Pol answered. "The doctor didn't want her to be awake for a long period before she hasn't rested properly and the swelling of her brain tissue has subsided properly. He allowed me to perform a mind-meld though. Her mind is intact and it was Hoshi, who asked me to embrace you in her stead."

"You surprised me," Malcolm said with a smile.

"I would have probably done so nonetheless," T'Pol explored drily. "I understand it is not an inappropriate gesture among friends."

"It isn't," Malcolm agreed, still smiling. He felt that the sleep had invigorated him. "How long have I been out?"

"Twelve hours and 24 minutes," T'Pol said. "When you passed out in the imaging chamber, the doctor decided to administer a sedative to allow you uninterrupted sleep. You were severely exhausted."

"Well, I wasn't exactly on a pleasure cruise," Malcolm sighed and gently continued to caress Hoshi's hand.

=/\=

Legatus Tavrus, who was once Major Talok walked the long corridors towards the Praetors chamber, where an emergency meeting was scheduled with him and Admiral Valdore. One would die today in dishonor, either Valdore or Fleet Admiral Verax, who had refused to remove the silly cloaking devices from their ships.

_We could just as well go into battle with the self-destruct sequence already counting down, _Tavrus thought grimly.

The defeat at Betazed was already the second in a short time and the Preator was not known to be a man of composure and patience. Initial satisfaction that the coalition vessel they encountered in battle was not the much hated, but also somewhat dreaded _Enterprise, _was soon supplanted by confusion that a coalition ship had been encountered in the first place. _Tal'Shiar _reconnaissance ships had not found any coalition ships within more than 2 hours range, which should have given them more than enough time to finish the laughable Betazoid runabouts that passed for ships on this planet of puny, hapless people.

What was more worrying was that a biosign scan had revealed that the ship was populated by six different species. All their efforts to divide the races in that quadrant had failed miserably. On the contrary – the _Terrhasu, _the most short-lived and weakest species of them all had managed to bind them into a coalition that presented the biggest obstacle the Empire had encountered in centuries of conquest. Of course admitting that publicly was a stupid and potentially lethal idea.

"FOUR! We lost four of our best ships!" Praetor D'Deridex hollered without preamble, once Tavrus had entered the chamber and taken a military stance next to the Admiral. "Valdore, I told you I don't accept any more failures."

"I'm afraid you are talking to the wrong man, Excellency," Legatus Tavrus interrupted. "Admiral Valdore wanted to follow my advice to remove the experimental cloaking devices, but Fleet Admiral Verax denied that request categorically."

"Why is this cloaking device to blame?" the Praetor demanded staring at him. "It has served us well in recent conflicts."

"It has served well against races, who haven't found out about its weakness," Valdore disagreed. "The _Terrhasu_ know that we cannot keep it operational without connecting it directly to the warp core. The two officers that infiltrated our drone ship saw the installation. One direct hit in the holographic emitters and a whole warbird is destroyed instantly due to a warpcore breach. And the _Terrhasu_ have freely shared that knowledge with other races."

"These _hevam_ are beginning to annoy me!" the Praetor screamed and hammered his fists on his ancient desk. "Valdore, I want that device taken out of every ship, except the _Tal'Shiar_ vessels. To Remus with the advantage! And bring me Verax – and a firing squad."

=/\=

When Malcolm entered the gym on _Salem One_, he couldn't believe his eyes. The MACOs, who were supposed to be engaged in combat training, were sitting around in little groups, some playing cards, others chatting or just sleeping on the floor.

Several looked at him dismissively, but only a few made lazy attempts at getting on their feet. Most seemed to completely ignore the entrance of the ship's Captain. With a swift movement, he drew his pulse rifle, flicked the switch to stun and let go a salvo of shots, only narrowly missing the groups of people.

"What the fuck?!" one of the MACOs yelled, while taking cover behind one of the weight racks.

"That's what I want to know!" Malcolm growled back. "Get on your feet and in formation you bloody scumbags."

The soldiers scrambled and quickly were standing in front of him in formation.

"Does this look like combat training to you?" Malcolm asked angrily and looked at the lazy bunch in front of him. Several uniforms looked less that pristine. The late Major Hayes would have eaten this lot raw. For all the initial problems he had with the fallen MACO, he had learned to respect him as an excellent military leader.

"We were waiting for Staff Sergeant Willis, Sir," one of the MACOs, a Sergeant, answered lamely.

"And you will continue waiting, because he's on his way back to Earth and involuntary early retirement." Malcolm growled, walking up and down the front line of soldiers. Without prior warning he socked one of them, who wore a particularly untidy uniform, sending him crashing into a nearby bulkhead.

"I'm at least three inch shorter than you, Corporal. How can I attack you without you showing as much as a reaction?" he yelled after the soldier, who scrambled back to his feet. He faced the others again.

"You lot don't impress me. In case you've missed the signs, we're heading into a war. I'm not going to watch how good men and women get their arses shot off, because you didn't do your bloody job. Your new platoon leader will expect a group of people ready to kick arse and trust me, you **will** be ready, when Sergeant Cole is done with you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the bewildered soldiers answered in unison.

"Strip off those jackets and get ready for combat practice. I'll be leading the training today."

=/\=

Trip came out of the bathroom to find T'Pol and Malcolm already seated in their quarters on _Enterprise_. After a very long day trying to patch up Malcolm's ship the shower had felt like a second birth, but all the invigorating effects of the shower would probably not keep him on his feet much longer than another two or three hours.

"Hey Mal," he greeted giving his friend a pat on the back.

"You look like hell," Malcolm said. "Any reason why I'm not allowed on my ship? I've been inundated with reports, but I'm not allowed to verify them?"

"Just," Trip said, gesturing him to wait a moment while he opened the door for the steward.

After the crewman had served the dishes and taken his leave Malcolm looked at Trip expectantly.

"It's just too crowded," Trip explained. "There are currently about 160 people running around on your ship. T'Len's crew, station personnel and two damage control teams from the Vulcans. You'd constantly be in the way of someone. And that doesn't even count for the risk of accidents. We had 8 injuries and that's just today."

"Is she so badly damaged," Malcolm asked back with a worried glance.

"Let's eat first," T'Pol suggested. "We can review the day's events after dinner."

Both men nodded their agreement and the meal proceeded in silence.

"So, how does it look?" Malcolm asked, once the steward had left with the dirty dishes and Trip had served them two beers and a tea for T'Pol.

"We're running three shifts round the clock," Trip explained. "Will take about a week and she's as good as new. And don't worry about the reports. They go all through me or T'Len. Trust me, before they reach you, we've checked them."

"I forgot to ask," Malcolm said looking at T'Pol after acknowledging Trips explanation with a nod. "What did the scans of the doctor bring about? Did he find out what's wrong with Hoshi?"

"It appears there is nothing wrong with Hoshi," she explained. "Since we don't know what happened, while Trip and Hoshi were infected, we can only speculate, but what the doctor found out is, that both Trip's and Hoshi's genetic makeup has been 'optimized'."

"I'm afraid you've lost me," Malcolm said and put the mug back on the table as if the beer was responsible for his state of confusion.

"Older scans of Trip have shown that he had a genetic predisposition for Alzheimer's disease. This genetic predisposition is no longer present in the scan Doctor Lucas performed today. Hoshi carried a genetic defect that exposed your future offspring to a 37.3 % chance of being born with Down's syndrome. This defect is no longer present either."

"So whatever they were infected with sort of cleaned up their genetic makeup?" Malcolm asked for further clarification.

"It appears to be the case," T'Pol confirmed. "It also had an effect on their aging process, which explains the mismatch in their date of birth."

"My birthday was off my 7 months, too," Trip provided, seeing Malcolm's confused look.

"Trip's date of birth was seemingly miscalculated by the same number of days as Hoshi's," T'Pol continued. "I have calculated that their aging process has slowed down by 49.761%. In short – over the last fourteen months since the unexplained infection both Trip and Hoshi have aged by only 7 months."

Having finished her tea, T'Pol stood up and walked to her wardrobe.

"That means...," Malcolm stammered, but got stuck mid-sentence.

"Yep," Tripped quipped. "T'Pol is stuck with me for another hundred twenty or hundred forty years."

"And Hoshi, too?" Malcolm asked.

Trip nodded.

"I'm lost for words," Malcolm said in amazement. He left unexplained if that condition was caused by realizing that he would have a youthful wife for most of his life or the fact that T'Pol had quietly undressed and walked naked into the bathroom for a shower.

=/\=

"Mattes!" Trip hollered coming into _Buran_'s battered engineering section the next day and the lanky German dropped out of a Jeffries tube. "Here!"

"How's the status?" he asked.

"The hull is patched up," Mattes explained. "But the EPS grid is a mess. They've taken a direct hit into junction J17. Whoever thought that placing a major EPS junction that close to the outer hull was a good idea, should be taken outside and shot."

"Didn't we correct that on Enterprise, when we installed the phase cannons?" Trip asked.

"We did," Mattes confirmed. "But it looks like they've sent the prototype data to the Aquarians. They've built the _Buran_ exactly like _Enterprise_ was when she shipped out for the first time."

"Damn, that means we have 4 years worth of upgrades to install," Trip groaned.

"Exactly, Chief; But don't worry, we're already on it. And while we're at it T'Len can learn about them first hand. Problem is, it'll delay us by at least a day."

"You have a day, so assemble a team and get cracking on it, but make sure to run your modifications past T'Len first," Trip said, poking away at a PADD. "This ship and its crew nuked four Rommies. I want it ready to add to that tally."

"How are they?" Mattes asked. "The Reeds, I mean."

"They're fine," Trip answered with a smile. "Worried about losing your customers?"

"_Unsinn!" _the German replied. "If it were for customers, we've got no shortage of those. Apparently the Andorians are growing fond of our beer. Our stash is running low with so many _Kumari_ cruisers around. Maybe you didn't notice, but not only the human crews are quite impressed by what Captain Reed has done. He's a damn hero."

"I'm not gonna argue with that," Trip agreed. "If you wanna pay them a visit, go ahead. Hoshi's still in the hospital. I'm sure she will appreciate it. Oh... and before you give everything away to the Andorians, make sure **our** keg is replaced."

"Wouldn't hear of it, Commander," Mattes said with a laugh and crawled back into the Jeffries tube.

=/\=

The monotonous whine of the treadmill in _Enterprise_'s gym would have drowned out all thoughts for most people, but not those of a former Section 31 operative, who was trained not to lose concentration under any circumstances.

Having spent most of the day before out cold in the hospital, he felt quite refreshed. The fact that Hoshi had woken up in the morning had helped this a lot, too and for the first time since the battle he had had the chance to talk to her and reassure himself of her continued presence in his life.

Most of the day he had been torn. One half of him was hell-bent on leaving Starfleet and not to send Hoshi into harms way again, but his other half would not allow him to abandon his friends and colleagues in this time of battle. As a former operative, who still had good contacts to the section, thanks to T'Pol's taming of Harris, he was a vital asset to Starfleet. He simply couldn't take himself out of the line of fire.

Thinking about T'Pol kicking Harris' arse back in line led inevitably to thoughts about the Vulcan. She had utterly surprised him twice. First by hugging him in the hospital and later by undressing for her shower as if it was the most normal thing in the world that he was still in the room at the time. Of course Trip had gotten another laugh about his obvious bafflement, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that it was indeed a normal thing. The only thing making it not normal was his own social awkwardness.

Both women had been tanning in the nude on Vulcan for most of the time and the only person discomforted by it was himself. On the other hand, Malcolm cackled mentally, two or three years ago he would have run screaming had Hoshi or T'Pol decided to jump out of their clothes.

Life without Hoshi and the Tuckers became increasingly unimaginable. Having severed almost all ties to his own family, Trip and his wife had become his family and more or less his only true friends. As an operative one did not have friends by necessity and his rotten social skills didn't make him an outgoing character either. Of course this closeness to other people that he felt for the first time in his life also meant that losing anyone of them to the horrors of the war would mean pain and grief that he had never felt before. That was the price for finding a family after such a long time as a lone wolf.

He forced himself to abandon that thought. It was just too painful to dwell on it.


End file.
